


Sun of Winter

by ZinniaRoseStark



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Culture Shock, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Feels, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Killing, Protectiveness, Rape/Non-con Elements, Weapons, White Walkers, Wildlings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-01-15 16:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18502495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZinniaRoseStark/pseuds/ZinniaRoseStark
Summary: Running away from her own wedding, Davina Karstark finds herself in a different predicament when she’s taken captive by Wildlings. How will a noble born girl who’s in way over her head adjust to living North of the Wall among a group of people she had been taught were savages worth fearing? How will she adjust having traded one husband for another of a different kind?





	1. Part 1

Davina Karstark has never hated her father as much as she does now. It was his fault she was in this mess in the first place. She had been running away from her own wedding and gotten caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. If she had stayed where she was supposed to be, she would have been a married woman with a husband and possibly with child already. Instead, she had run away the day before her wedding, choosing to make her own future apart from the one that had been decided for her by her father. By now she’s already questioning whether that had been a good idea.

 

She’d been travelling four days, pushing her horse as much as she could. She had minimal food, no supplies and the clothes she’d had on her back the night she’d decided to run. But she couldn’t stop. Not yet. No doubt her father’s men would be after her to bring her back. She didn’t know if anyone had seen her go North. She was hoping to gain some time by having them think she ran South. After all, why would anyone run north once they’re already in the North?

 

Davina is starving by the time she comes across a small village. It’s off the Kingsroad by a mile, but it looks safe enough. She’s not sure how far she’s travelled in four days, but she has no choice but to stop. Her horse has lost a shoe, and she’s been walking him for the last three miles. She knows he needs a break and so does she. She’s bought enough time diverting North she can take a short break and find a farrier.

 

The village is quiet as she enters, dark and desolate, or so it seems. She was used to castles and full towns but up here there was nothing but villages and farms and the only travellers were those going North to the Wall. She had debated going to the wall, disguising herself as a man and hiding there. But if they ever found out, the consequences would be worse than if her father’s men caught her now.

 

She finds the inn, the only place in the village that looks alive. The stables are empty but there are a couple people inside. She asks about a farrier and is told to ask the blacksmith in the morning when he’s up. It’s quiet inside the inn, and Davina eats her dinner quickly before retiring to her room for the night. She’d look into getting some supplies and food in the morning for her journey. She had plenty of gold, just no place to spend it on the road until now.

 

*****

 

Davina wakes smelling smoke. It takes her a moment to register her surroundings. She’s inside the inn, she realizes and it’s the inn that’s on fire. She can hear screams outside, the window lit with the orange glow of fire in the village outside. Davina’s heart is racing as she jumps to her feet, running to the door. Smoke is pouring in from under it, hot fire blazing when she opens the door. She’s trapped. She turns, looking to the window. She’ll have to go out it if she wants to make it. She doesn’t know what’s going on or what’s happening but her best chance is the window. There’s an awning below her window. If she can even hit it on her way down, she can slow her fall a little. She grabs the chair at the desk, throwing it at the window with all her strength. Surprisingly it shatters, Davina climbing onto the windowsill. Her lungs and eyes are burning from the smoke, the cold air coming in through the window not promising anything better, the air itself permeated with smoke.

 

Glass cuts into her hands as she dangles herself from the windowsill. The awning is only two feet below her, but the ground is further. She says a quick prayer to the gods before she drops, catching herself on the edge of the awning. The wood splinters, digging into her hands as she hangs on. She can see the village better now. Two other buildings are on fire, and people are running for the trees. It’s then she sees their being chased.

 

She had heard stories as a child of Wildlings coming south of the wall to raid villages and plunder and murder and rape for the fun of it. Her brothers had taunted her with tales of Wildlings coming as far south as Last Hearth and even sometimes even The Dreadfort occasionally. She hadn’t believed them, of course, being a foolish girl then with a head full of tales of knights and dragons. Nothing that dangerous could be real enough to touch her.

 

But now it was.

 

Davina knows she has to get to the trees. If she can make it into the trees, she can hide until the Wildlings leave. The ground is still a great distance below her but she knows she has to let go. She can’t hold herself up much longer and the fire had almost reached her by now. She takes a breath, praying to the gods once more before she lets go, dropping to the ground. It’s hard and cold as she hits it, coming down on right side. She may have heard a crack, but she’s not sure, her body fighting past the pain in her desperation to survive.

 

She pushes herself to her feet, shaking away the dizziness. There’s a man running towards her, but by the look of him he’s one of the villagers. He suddenly stops, dropping to the ground a mere foot from her. There’s an axe sticking out of his back. She looks past him, spotting a man walking towards the body, and her. He’s a beast of a man, she can tell already. The fire is reflected in his eyes, crazed and bloodthirsty. If she runs for the trees she could get out, but what if he decided to chase her? Could she outrun him? She doesn’t know this area, these woods. Even if she made it to the Kingsroad, there wouldn’t be help for miles. Her heart is hammering in her chest, and for a second she debates grabbing the axe but there’s no way she can pull it from the dead man’s back. Instead, she goes for his sword, yanking it out of the scabbard and standing her ground.  _ Just like sparring with your brothers.  _ It couldn’t be that hard.

 

The man is closer now, every bit as wild as he had looked a few moments ago. There’s a manic look in his eyes, but there’s also something else there. Amusement? He’s a big man but Davina tries not to let that intimidate her. If she can incapacitate him even a little she has a chance of running and making it. She holds the sword with both hands. It’s too heavy for her, too long, but she tries not to show it.

 

The man stands there for a moment as she swings the sword at him, trying to look dangerous, tough. He takes her in for a moment before laughing. It’s a loud, mocking laugh but there’s nothing cruel about it. Davina feels her blood practically boiling, and she charges him, but he’s ready for her. He swings at her as she comes close, forcing her to change tactics and take the defensive. His hit is nearly enough to send the sword from her hands, but she clings on for dear life. The force of it vibrates up her arms, but she pushes the uncomfortable feeling back as he swings at her again.

 

He’s hardly trying, and she can tell he’s going easy on her. She parries his blows as best she can, quickly tiring out. It’s a game to him, she can tell. Tire her out and then kill her after he’s had his fun. She thinks about her family, her father, her mother, her brothers. They would be ashamed if she didn’t go down fighting. Northerners were supposed to be tough. She can’t let him have all the fun.

 

She spots an opening after she dodges a swing. She circles back with the last bit of energy she has, getting the point of the sword into his shoulder. It’s not deep, her strength not enough to send the sword straight through, but it stuns him for a moment. She takes the opportunity, turning on her heel and running for the trees.

 

Davina can run when her life depends on it. She had spent her childhood running from her brothers and had learned very early on how to get away when she needs to. But she had injured herself in her fall, and she’s unable to push herself as fast as she knows she can run. She can hear the thundering footsteps behind her. She’s exhausted from her attempt at fighting a Wildling twice as big as she was, the Wildling that was now chasing her. He had killed a man by throwing at axe at his back. Cold sweat trickles down her back as she wonders whether he’s waiting for a good shot to throw an axe at her next. Perhaps she had made a mistake in running from her wedding.

 

She pushes herself as fast as she can but the footsteps keep getting louder and louder. Her stomach is a mess of knots, the trees doing little to ease her plight, their roots reaching up to grab at her legs and feet, their branches reaching out to tangle in her hair and her dress and her cloak. Horrible thoughts flash through her mind of the stories her brothers had tormented her with suddenly becoming a reality. They had told her of the brutality of Wildlings, and now she was the damsel, the poor girl being chased through the woods by the bloodthirsty Wildling.

 

It’s her cloak that’s her downfall. Perhaps if she had taken it off, she could have escaped. Tire her pursuer until he gets bored and leaves her to die in the cold somewhere along the Kingsroad on her way back South. But she had kept her cloak on, and it gives her pursuer the perfect opportunity to grab her once he’s close enough. It surprises her, the force of his pull causing the leather ties holding her cloak in place to dig into her skin. She hits the ground hard; the air is forced from her lungs, her back spasming painfully as all of her weight comes down on it. Her feet at left the ground for a moment as he’d pulled her backwards, her vision blurring for a moment when her head collides with the solid ground.

 

He’s over her before she can even think to get to her feet. It’s nearly dawn now, casting everything in a grey light. She hadn’t been able to see the sky from the smoke in the village and had been too busy running to take any notice of the brightening sky. The wild look is just as intense in his eyes as it had been before, like a hungry bear looking down at a wounded doe. His hair is as red as fire, the same color as his beard. The more she stares at him, the more he looks like a hungry bear.

 

He’s on his knees over her, both of them panting from their run. She knows there’s no escape now. She’s weaponless against a Wildling she had just tried to fight and stabbed. A gloved hand runs over her cheek before capturing a lock of her golden hair. “Aren’t you a pretty one? I haven’t seen many kneelers that are pretty and brave.”

 

Davina is pretty. Pretty for a Northerner at least, her governess had told her. Her brother Torrhen had told her she doesn’t look like a Northerner. Her brothers were all tall with dark hair while she had golden hair. Her brothers had teased her about being a bastard until she had gone to her father to ask him, and he had scolded them for putting that idea in her head. She had taken after her mother, who had been light haired. But not golden haired like her. A traveller from the South had once asked her if she was a Lannister. She had never met the Lannisters. She had never been farther South than Winterfell and she had limited knowledge of the South. She had always known she’d be staying in the North, so she had bothered little with the South. Perhaps she should have. She would have fared better, it appeared, if she had gone South.

 

The Wildling man lifts her up easily, standing her on her feet for a moment before she’s slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He walks back the way they came, horrible images flooding through her mind then. Were they rounding up all the women to take their pick? Would he take her back to the village and rape her in the middle of the road while everyone watched? Would he take her back and murder her with the rest? The last is seeming more and more like an ideal situation.

 

She tries to struggle, kicking and hitting the Wildling with what little strength she has left, but he pays her no mind. He just tightens his hold on her, making his way back to the village, and back to his raiding party. They’re waiting for him already saddled up, having taken everything they wanted and needed from the village. The buildings were still burning, and those who had been too slow to run were dead. Tormund only gets one questioning glance as he makes his way to his horse, toting along his own share of the spoils.

 

“Really Father? You’re bringing a kneeler with us?”

 

Tormund had allowed Munda to come with him on this raid. She had been begging for the last two raids he had done to come, and he had finally acquiesced. Raids were dangerous, but he knew Munda could handle herself. His sons had stayed behind to mind Ruddy Hall while he was gone. He stops in front of his horse, turning to Munda. “I want her, so I’m going to bring her. If she’s too much trouble, then I’ll kill her.” The girl’s struggling stops at his words. Her fighting was feeble, but she had put up a good chase for him.  “Meet your new mother, Munda.” He laughs, setting the girl back on her feet.

 

He steadies her as she stumbles, holding her wrists in one of his hands. She’s a small thing, the top of her head not even reaching the bottom of his beard. She looks up at him with wide eyes. They’re blue, the clearest blue he’s ever seen. Blue like ice when the sun shines through it at the right angle. There are twigs and leaves in her golden hair, the part of her that had caught his attention. He’d never seen anything quite so gold as her hair.

 

“What’s going to happen to me?”

 

He knows she’s trying to be strong, fearless, but the waver in her voice gives her fear away. He looks down at her, watery blue eyes staring back at him. “You’re mine now. You will come with us back home.” He grabs a bit of rope from his saddlebag, using it to tie her wrists together. She had proven she could still run and fight, injured as she was from her fall from the inn window. He would not risk having to chase her down again, as much fun as it would be.

 

“You don’t want to take me. There are men after me. They’ll catch up to us soon enough.” It’s probably not true, but a lie might get her out of this.

 

“If they do, we’ll kill them. You belong to me now. Anyone tries to take you, I’ll kill them.”

 

Her lie hadn’t worked. She’d had to lie to get out of trouble before, but the Wildling is seeing right through her. Then again, she’s not sure why it had worked. They had just wiped out an entire town in a matter of a couple hours. A few men on horseback, armed or not would be no problem for them.

 

“My father. He will pay a lot of gold for my safe return.” Also a lie.

 

“I don’t want your gold. Your gold means nothing to me. You are mine and you will come with us.”

 

Davina is lifted into the air easily and draped over the horse like a sack of potatoes. It’s uncomfortable, the saddle horn digging into her side and the horse’s shoulders pressing into her stomach. The Wildling climbs into the saddle, placing his hand, more than likely on purpose, on her ass. She knows fighting is useless now. She should have tried to kill him instead of running. Maybe she could have gotten away then. Or the other Wildings would have caught her and killed her for it. Anything would be better than riding on the back of a horse like a useless sack of potatoes.

 

******

 

Davina is sore and nauseous by the time they stop for a break around midday. She’s pulled down off the horse after the Wildling climbs off, air filling her lungs after her breathing had been constricted for so long. She feels dizzy, the blood rushing from her head and her breath filling it. Sturdy arms wrap around her, steadying her as she wavers, pressing her bound hands against the horse’s side to keep herself upright.

 

“Ever been on a horse before?”

 

She turns to look up at the Wildling. He looks less crazed now as he had when he’d caught her but she’ll never forget the bloodthirsty look he’d given her. She had no doubts about his strength. She had felt it in his blows and that had been him holding back. He could probably break her in half with his bare hands. Despite this, his grip around her is firm, but there’s a tenderness to it. It surprises her. He had been everything she imagined Wildlings to be the first time she’d seen him. But now he looked like a completely different person.

 

“Not like that.” She answers him.

 

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through her. “Stretch your legs, girl. We’ve got another fifteen miles before we’re stopping for the night.” He moves past her, leaving her alone with the horse.

 

She could run now. Climb on the horse and run. But where would she go? North to the Wall? The Night’s Watch was full of rapists and murderers and even if she was lucky enough to get them to help her, she’d be sent back to her father. She could go back South but how far would she get before she froze or starved to death? Even if she could make it to Last Hearth, she’d be going right back to where she had run from. Not only that, she’d have to come up for a reason for her running from her wedding.

 

“Thinking of running, girl?”

 

Davina turns her head, the Wildling woman standing by her. She’s taller than Davina by almost a head, red hair pulled back from her face. It’s a stern face, but not one she would call unattractive. She’s bigger than Davina too, the furs making her seem bigger, but Davina wouldn’t underestimate her strength. “I was. But where would I go?”

 

She smirks. “You could try. But my father is not keen on losing things he’s taken for himself.”

 

“You-Your father?” Davina stares at her wide eyed.

 

The Wildling woman smirks at her. “And you’re my new mother.”

 

Davina flounders, her brain trying to understand. “I-I don’t understand-”

 

“My father’s taken you as his wife now.” Munda sighs at Davina’s shocked look. “Us Free Folk don’t marry like you kneelers. When a man wants to marry a woman, he takes her, and she either lets herself be taken or she tries to kill him. If she’s taken, she’s his wife now. My father took you, so you are his wife.” Munda smirks at the look on Davina’s face, leaning in close to her. “Best prepare yourself, little girl. My father’s famous for fucking a she-bear. Better hope he’s gentler with you.”

 

Davina hits something solid as she takes a step back. She freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. “Scaring my little wife, Munda?”

 

Munda smirks at her father, mounting her horse. “Just preparing her for what’s coming.”

 

Tormund moves around Davina, standing in front of her again. He grips her waist, ready to lift her onto the horse but she stops him. She stands up taller, a determined look on her face. “No. I want to sit on the horse this time.”

 

He smirks at her. “Very well then.” He lifts her into the saddle before climbing on behind her.

 

He’s a solid wall behind her and she sits forward, trying not to touch him too much, but it’s nearly impossible. She can feel all of him now, and for a moment she regrets her decision to sit with him, but once the horse starts moving she’s glad she wasn’t on him like a sack of potatoes again. Her dress had bunched up nearly to her knees, the cold air chilling her to the bone. She’s tempted by the warmth of the man behind her, but she stays resilient, drawing her cloak closer around her.

 

They ride in silence for a while. Davina thinks over everything that had happened the past few days. Running away, stopping for the night in a village that just happened to be attacked by Wildlings. Getting taken by those Wildlings and becoming the wife to their apparent leader. Munda’s words run through her head. She didn’t have to be his wife, but she’d have to kill him. Could she really kill a man? She’s not sure. She’d never tried before.

 

“Tell me your name.” The Wildling breaks her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. She doesn’t answer him at first, not knowing if she should tell him her real name. “A man should know his wife’s name, don’t you think? I am Tormund of the Free Folk. Tall-talker, Horn-blower and Breaker of Ice, Husband to Bears, the Mead-king of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods and Father of Hosts.”

 

“Those are a lot of titles.” Davina says. She’s not even sure the King had that many titles.

 

“Aye. I accomplished a lot in my time.”

 

“My name’s Davina Karstark. My father is Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.”

 

Tormund laughs. It’s a loud, booming laugh, startling her. “I’ve caught myself a proper lady!” Some Wildlings riding close behind him laugh. “Tell me, what is a lady doing so close to the Wall?”

 

“Running away from my wedding.” She tells him this without even thinking about it.

 

“Why were you running?”

 

“Because I did not want to marry him.”

 

“Why were you marrying him then?”

 

“Because my father arranged it.”

 

“Why not just kill him?”

 

“Because I would have been put to death for killing the son of a Lord. Our customs aren’t like yours.”

 

“Stupid customs. Why marry someone you don’t want?”

 

Davina leans back against his chest, looking up at him. “Says the man who kidnapped me and made me his wife.”

 

Tormund grins down at her. “Yes, but I wanted you. Did this other man want you?”

 

Davina sighs, looking back ahead of her. “Not in the way I wanted him to. The Smalljon was only interested in what was between my legs. A young wife to give him plenty of sons.”

 

“Smalljon? What kind of name is that?”

 

“That’s what they call him. He’s named after his father, Jon, but they call his father the Greatjon because he’s a very large man. Smalljon is not as large as his father but still very large compared to other men. Larger than even you.”

 

Tormund gives her an annoyed look. “They would marry a tiny girl like you to a big man like that? He must have a tiny pecker if they think you’d live through that.”

 

Davina feels her entire face flush red. She wasn’t used to such openly foul speech. Her brothers had foul mouths in private but never out in the open, especially around their father. “You’ve married me in your customs.” Her voice is small, quiet. She knows what happens on a wedding night. Her governess had well prepared her for that.

 

Tormund chuckles deeply. “Aye, my pecker is not small. I just know how to use it.” She feels his breath against her ear, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “Soon you’ll be begging for it, screaming out my name in the middle of the night.”

 

A shudder runs through her, making him laugh as he pulls back once again. Davina’s stomach is in knots, her heart fluttering in her chest. Would he do it tonight? Would he make her wait? She’d spent her entire life preparing to be wed to a lord, how to run a household, how to be a proper lady, but nothing had prepared her to wed a Wildling. Maybe she could find it in herself to kill him. Escape somewhere, maybe to the Wall. Maybe she could dress as a man and hide there for a while. Or maybe she could just go back home and face the consequences. Whatever she’s going to do, she has to decide fast.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a description of non-violent noncon sexual content in this chapter.

Davina’s stomach is a mess of knots when they stop for the night. She’s starving and the reality of her vulnerable position has finally settled in. She’s exhausted too from her interrupted rest and her fight earlier that morning against an opponent with immeasurable strength. Tormund doesn’t seem a bit exhausted, easily hauling her off the horse and practically dragging her towards where a fire is being built up. The sun has already set, and the cold has settled in. She had always prized herself on being a true Northerner, not being afraid of the cold. But she had never seen a true winter, having been born at the end of the last one. They weren’t even at the Wall yet, and already she was much colder than she had ever been at home. She had dressed as warmly as she could when she made her escape, but it obviously hadn’t been enough.

 

She’s seated on the ground, the dirt is damp as it always is in the North but she finds she can’t bring herself to care. One of the Wildlings is putting a chicken over the fire, the others setting up camp. She watches them, some of them having quiet conversations, others working in silence. They’re men and women just like her, but she still feels like an outsider. She had been taught her entire life they were nothing but savages that lived in caves and ate their prisoners, but now...they just seemed like regular men. Different, but still in some ways the same.

 

Before long their dinner is ready and a large form settles itself next to her. She glances up, seeing a familiar head of red hair before a plate is passed to her. She looks down at the food on it, her stomach twisting hungrily but she can’t bring herself to eat it. Her mind is racing, knowing what’s coming after she eats and her husband settles in for the night. The others seem to know it too, their eyes drifting over the pair as they eat and have their own conversations.

 

“Is there something wrong with the food?” Tormund asks her, gaining her attention.

 

“N-No, it looks wonderful. I just-”

 

“Then eat it,” he interrupts her. “Or I will feed you myself.”

 

She feels her cheeks warm up as she drops her gaze down to the plate once again, slowly picking at the chicken. It tastes good to her starving body, the few vegetables on the plate going down easily too. It’s a simple meal, but it’s the first she’s had since the night before and she’s never been so grateful for chicken. She knows Tormund is watching her as she eats, she can feel his eyes boring into the side of her head but she pays no mind to him.

 

He takes her plate once it’s empty, leaving her side to deliver them to whoever would wash them that night. She’s not sure what to do, so she says where she is, soaking in the fire's warmth for the time being.

 

Tormund comes back after a short time, pulling her to her feet. “Come. You should get some rest.”

 

Davina’s heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of her chest. If it had been up to her, she would have stayed frozen in that spot, but Tormund easily moves her towards one of the tents. She wraps her arms around herself to hide her hands shaking as she’s pushed gently into a tent. There’s a bedroll already set up with a wool blanket on top. Davina keeps her back to the opening of the tent, nearly shaking in her boots with the idea of what’s coming.

 

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.”

 

The tent flap closes, and it takes Davina a moment to register that she’s alone. Tormund had left her for the moment. She takes a breath, steadying her nerves enough to unclasp her cloak from around her neck. She doesn’t have it in her to fight anymore, exhausted from the past couple of days. She lays herself down on the bedroll, using her cloak as a pillow. Maybe if she fell asleep, he wouldn’t try anything. Maybe if she fell asleep, she could sleep right through it.

 

She doesn’t have to try to fall asleep, her eyes drifting closed as soon as her head hits the pillow.

 

Her sleep doesn’t last long, though. She’s not sure how long she’s been asleep or what time it is. The camp is significantly quieter now, and it takes her a moment to realize why she’s awake. There’s a body over hers, a cool breeze meeting where her legs are parted, her skirts up around her waist. Her mind instantly panics as she tries to wiggle, but hands quickly stop her. One settles on her chest, the other covering her mouth.

 

“Don’t bother screaming. You’d be more likely to get an audience than someone that would help you.”

 

She stares up at Tormund with wide eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. She’s never been with a man, she’s never even been touched before. She knows it will hurt; she knows it’s her duty to lay there and let him take her like a good wife. They may not have been married in her culture, but the idea of him being her husband made this feel less wrong. Somehow it helped her convince herself she wasn’t about to be raped.

 

She closes her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat as she feels his hand sliding down her body. His skin is rough against hers as it makes contact with the bare skin above her mound. Her chest is heaving, quiet tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes.

 

Tormund can feel them against his hand, glancing up at her. “Have you ever had a man before?” She shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. “Do not worry, little maid. I will make sure you feel good.”

 

His fingers drift lower, brushing against something that makes her jolt. Her eyes fly open as he continues touching her there, watching her face. He teases her clit, watching her reactions as he tries to prepare her as best he can. Her hips jerk at his actions, her eyes still wide and staring at him. He can see her in the light from the fire outside the tent, wide-eyed and innocent. He feels his pants grow tighter as he slips a finger lower, working it into her folds.

 

She whines against his hand quietly, her little body fighting against the intrusion. She’s tight, tighter than he’d ever felt. He continues teasing her clit, her body opening up a little more to him. He works his finger deeper inside her, adding a second finger as she relaxes more. She’s gone lax under him, quiet sounds coming out from under his hand. He’d rather have his mouth on her, but that will have to wait.

 

He pulls his fingers away as soon as she’s wet enough, undoing the laces on his pants. If they had been in a better position, he would have taken his time, worshipped her body like she deserved but he knows the longer she stays a maid, the more tempting it will be for the others. He’d rather not have to kill his own men, but if they ever laid a hand on her, he wouldn’t hesitate.

 

She panics as he settles himself over her, trapping her. His hand is still over her mouth, muffling her cries as she tries one last desperate attempt to keep this from happening. It had felt good, what he was doing with his fingers, but just the feel of him hard against her was terrifying. He wasn’t lying about not being small. He’ll rip her in half. She struggles under him again as he slowly presses into her. Her eyes are wide and panicked, her hands clutching at him.

 

Her chest is heaving as he leans down, his lips brushing her ear as he shushes her. “Relax, little maid. Fighting me will make it worse.”

 

He can feel her tears against his hand as he presses further in, her passage still slick from earlier. He breaks through her maidenhead, sinking all the way into her. She’s trembling under him, holding in quiet sobs as she stretches painfully around him. He leans on the elbow of the hand that’s covering her mouth as he slips his free hand to where they’re joined, finding her clit again. She jolts when he brushes against it, tightening around him almost painfully.

 

He groans in her ear, pausing his movements for a moment. “Too much of that and this will be over before we even get started.”

 

He moves his hips as he teases her clit, unwillingly getting her to open to him. The pain is still there as he ruts over her, but his ministrations bring something else through the pain. It’s not as painful as her governess had told her it would be, but it’s still not comfortable. She pushes back the thought of what’s happening to her, focusing on the feelings instead. This was her husband now, and she was doing her duty as his wife. He was trying to make it pleasurable for her. Would the Smalljon have been so kind? Or would he have taken her harshly, not caring for her pleasure or her pain, focusing only on his own release and putting a son in her belly?

 

She lets her eyes close, tears still falling as Tormund ruts away, unaware of the turmoil in his wife’s mind. She tries to picture anyone else over her, the guardsman she’d found attractive as a youth coming to mind. He had been ten years her senior, but she had unabashedly put herself in situations just to be close to him. She felt foolish now for her actions of a lusty child, not understanding the way the world works, the way love works. She still doesn’t. She knew she would have a loveless marriage, as her parents had. The only glimmer of love she’d felt was from her mother. She knew she would love her children no matter whom they came from. Even if they came from a Wildling.

 

Tormund’s groans and grunts get louder, his thrusts losing their rhythm. He buries his face in her shoulder, his beard scratching her skin as he lets out a loud, guttural moan into her neck, his body finally stilling. She can feel him, twitching and pulsing inside her, something warm filling her. His hand slides from its place over her mouth, and Davina bites her lip to keep her sobs in. He lays there for a moment before finally moving, looking down at her tear-stained face. He feels a pang of guilt, her sharp gasp of pain as he slides out of her cutting deep into his chest.

 

He says nothing, not quite sure what he can say, as he tucks himself back into his pants before rising to grab the bucket of water near the flap of the tent. He grabs a cloth, dipping it into the water before moving back over to her, his touch light as he cleans the blood and mixed juices from their coupling from her thighs and the spot between them. Her breathing is ragged as the cloth touches her sensitive folds, no doubt she’ll be sore tomorrow. He tosses the rag to the side once she’s clean before joining her on the bedroll. She rolls to the side so her back is to him as he lays next to her, pulling the blanket up around them. He keeps a couple inches between them as he settles in, hoping sleep will calm the guilty ache in his chest.

 

**********

 

Davina doesn’t sleep. She’s not sure how long she lays there, minutes, hours. She’s hurting already, an uncomfortable ache pulsing between her thighs. She’s tired, beyond exhausted, but she can’t bring herself to sleep. Tormund is fast asleep behind her, as he had been since their coupling. He’d moved closer to her in his sleep, one heavy arm sliding around her and pulling her back against his chest. He’s warm and solid behind her, but all it does is remind her of the feeling of him on top of her, rutting away like he didn’t care that he was stealing her innocence.

 

She listens to his breathing, counting each breath. It’s slow and even, his hand resting against her stomach. He’s snoring quietly, his exhales blowing the hair on the back of her neck. Despite the situation, his warmth is inviting compared to the cold air outside the blankets. Davina knows she can’t get too comfortable, though. She doesn’t want to be a wife, and she doesn’t want to be a Wildling. She knows what she has to do, and the tool to do it is resting just a few inches from her face.

 

It’s a crudely made dagger, not like the ones her brothers carried, or she had carried after she left Last Hearth. She’d seen only a handful of Wildling weapons and none of them were as refined as the steel she was used to seeing, though that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

 

Davina moves slowly, pausing at every little movement, every little sound Tormund makes as she reaches for the dagger, carefully pulling it completely from its scabbard. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have thought it strange that Tormund would leave a dagger lying where she could reach it. But she was not thinking clearly enough to find it suspicious.

 

She holds the dagger to her chest for a moment, calming her racing heart as Tormund sleeps on quietly behind her. She can do it while he’s sleeping. Quick and easy and he’ll never know. She slowly turns, inch by inch she moves until she’s facing him. He hasn’t moved, showing no sign that she could see that he knew she was awake and about to kill him.

 

She carefully pushes him over so he’s on his back, his heavy body flopping over with a snore. She quickly straddles his chest, pressing the dagger to his neck, but she stops. It would be so quick and easy to end it now. One movement of her hand and it would be all over. Could she kill him? If she did she would be free. But where would she go? North to the Wall? She’d have to find the Kingsroad, which could take days. And then what? Go North where they would either rape her or send her back to her father where she would face the Seven Hells for her actions? Go South and pray she runs into the men looking for her or try to make it back to Last Hearth where she would face the wrath of her betrothed whom she left on the day before their wedding? She would be on foot with no supplies. Her chances of getting to the Kingsroad alone would be slim enough. She could try to steal a horse and supplies but these weren’t dumb Northern soldiers. These were Wildlings. Wildlings south of the Wall.

 

Or she could stay with them. Even if she killed Tormund, she could stay. But could she really kill a man? A man who was her key to leaving her old life behind. No matter where she went in the Seven Kingdoms there would be someone who knew her, someone who would tell her father. Even if she went across the Narrow Sea, it wouldn’t be safe. She’d be a slave before the year was up. But if she went north of the Wall where no one rangers from the Night’s Watch ever went. It’s dangerous up there, but it’s dangerous in Westeros too. Could she kill the man that kept her alive even after she tried to fight him?

 

“Do it.” Tormund’s harsh whisper has her nearly jumping out of her skin, the dagger almost slipping out of her hand. His eyes are open now, staring up at him. He could easily overpower her, take the dagger and slit her throat instead but he doesn’t. “Do it.”

 

She stares down at him, his own eyes staring into hers. There’s no fear in his eyes, no emotion at all, except understanding. He knows what she’s doing, why she’s doing it. It’s their custom. He has children, he’d been married before, presumably. She was doubting her ability to do it while he was still asleep. But now he’s awake and looking at her like he expects it.

 

“Have you ever killed before?” He asks her, still unmoving under her. She shakes her head, trying to push back the tears. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

 

She gathers her wits about her before pressing the dagger harder into his neck. He lets his head fall back, but his eyes stay on her. Her hand is shaking and sweaty, the dagger slipping from her grip. She keeps her gaze on him a moment longer before shaking her head, looking away. “I can’t.”

 

He gently pushes her hand with the dagger away from his neck, removing it from her hand. She hears it land in the grass a couple feet away, Tormund’s hands moving to her waist as he moves her so he can sit up. She winds up in his lap, inches separating them. She still can’t look at him, guilty for her attempt at killing him.

 

“I’m not a bad man.” His voice reverberates against her chest despite the few inches separating them. “If you let me, I want to take care of you. Show you how a woman should be treated. Not meant for breeding sons but to be loved and cared for. I protect what’s mine. You can be mine, or you can try killing me again.”  

 

She finally looks up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his eyes. She doesn’t doubt the strength or wildness in his heart. She had seen it firsthand when she’d attacked him the day before. But now that terrifying animosity is gone from his gaze. “You hurt me.”

 

He nods, an almost guilty look crossing his face. “I know. If we had the time or privacy, I would have done it differently. Worshipped your body like it deserves, brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known you could feel. But I had to do it this way. The longer you stayed a maid, the more tempting you would be to the others. I have to mark what’s mine or they could try to take you.” She nods slowly, holding back a yawn. Tormund lays back, pulling her down with him so she’s against his chest. “Get some rest. We have an early start in the morning.”

  
  
  
  



	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long wait but I never planned to abandon this story. Just had so much going on I couldn't find time to really sit down and write! But things have calmed down for now so I have a little spare time!
> 
> This chapter does have some violence and attempted rape. Just for a warning.

Pain. It’s all Davina can feel. Her thighs feel raw, the juncture between her legs feels swollen and angry. Every step the horse takes is excruciating, placing pressure somewhere on a sore spot. She’d long ago given up, leaning back against Tormund’s chest to try to relieve some pressure from her womanhood. He was strangely silent for most of the ride, as were the other Wildlings. They had been loud and seemingly joyful the previous day and this was a shocking change. 

 

If it wasn’t for the pain, Davina would have fallen asleep on the horse. She had hardly been able to keep her eyes open as she ate her breakfast, but she was wide awake as soon as she had mounted the horse. There had been a throbbing between her legs when Tormund had woken her for breakfast. The throbbing had gotten worse as she’d moved around, managing nothing more than a limp as she walked. She had gained some knowing looks from the Wildlings as soon as she’d left her tent. A part of her felt dirty, having her innocence stolen only a few feet away from them where they could hear if they had been awake. She had been told that it wasn’t uncommon for men to stand outside the door during beddings and shout encouragement and advice. But that was behind a closed and locked door. They had been in a tent. Anyone could have poked their head in and seen them. 

 

She hadn’t wanted to wake up so early, nor had she wanted to ride on the horse but she was at the mercy of the Wildings, of her husband. Every movement he made, every time he shifted behind her, the heavy weight of his hand on her front served as a reminder she was simply there to provide a warm place for her husband at night and pop out a baby every so often. The way his hand was cradling her stomach made her think perhaps he wanted her to give him more children. Could she be pregnant already? She’d heard stories of women becoming pregnant after the first night. 

 

The prospect terrified her. Going to a new place already was stressful enough, but the prospect of carrying a child too? The child of a man who had stolen her in the night and claimed her as his wife, giving him the moral pass to rape her without guilt. She had no doubt the same would happen tonight, and the night after. She’d heard a story from a kitchen maid about her sister who had been taken every night by her husband for a week until she’d bled and could hardly move. Would that be her fate? Her Wildling husband had been kinder than she’d expected last night. Would he give in to the beastly carnal pleasures he so obviously desires until they kill her because she’s not strong enough? 

 

******

 

Davina can hardly move when they stop for the night. Her legs had nearly given out from under her when she’d touched the ground, having to cling to the horse for a moment while pain ripped through her. Her breathing was coming out in shaky gasps as she tried to force the pain away so she could at least walk towards the fire. It was getting colder, the air biting her exposed skin. She had thought herself a true Northerner, unafraid of the cold. But this was a new kind of cold, unforgiving and angry and she knew it would only get worse. 

 

She stumbles over to the fire, managing to drop to the ground. Sitting hurts even more than standing though, Davina forced to pull her legs up to her chest to find a comfortable position. She leaned her head against her knees, closing her eyes to keep any sign of the agony she’s in hidden. She didn’t think the Wildlings would approve of a weakling in their midst. She had to make them believe she’s strong, trying to find the same courage she’d had when she’d run at Tormund with a sword in her hand. 

 

She feels a body sit next to hers, not having to look up to know it’s Tormund. He nudges her with his arm lightly and she looks up, finding a piece of chicken being held out to her. Her eyes are blurry with exhaustion and pain and she lets Tormund feed her, taking pieces of chicken as they’re offered. She hadn’t noticed how hungry she was behind all the pain. 

 

After Tormund finishes eating, he guides her to his tent again. She bites her lip, trying to hide the cries of pain and dread she wants to let out as she’s pushed inside. She knows what’s coming next, more pain for her. She’ll be lucky if she can even move tomorrow. She flops down onto the furs, shutting her eyes and praying she’ll be asleep before he starts. She’s so exhausted it may be a reality, but after a few moments when she doesn’t feel him on top of her she cracks an eye open. She finds herself alone in the tent to her surprise. She knows he’ll be coming back, so she curls up to get some desperate sleep, barely pulling a fur over her before she’s out. 

 

******

 

Tormund is shaking her when she wakes the next morning. She had vaguely remembered him joining her, having woken in a slight panic before drifting back off when he’d laid next to her. If he had done anything, she’d slept right through it. She takes stock of how she feels when she sits up, the pain still there but it’s not as severe as it had been the day before. He’s kneeling next to her, watching her with his intense eyes. 

 

“I did not touch you last night. I do not want there to be pain the next time. I want you to enjoy it. I want you to be singing my name as I worship your tight little cunt.” Davina’s cheeks heat up at his words. Unused to such vulgar language but she can’t deny the sparks of heat that shoot straight between her legs at his words. She shifts a bit to try to relieve the sensation, making him laugh. “Come. We have a long day of travelling ahead of us.” 

 

Davina eats a light breakfast fed to her by Tormund before joining him on his horse again. She doesn’t try to keep her body away from his anymore, letting it rest back against his solid chest. He keeps one of his hands on her stomach, the other holding the reins. She’s grateful for the added warmth as the air continues to get colder as they go North. She sees her first signs of snow leftover from the night before, not warm enough to melt it all, but still cold enough for it to stick. She knows it will only get worse, her dress and cloak not offering much to keep the cold air from her skin. 

She’s glad for the break once they stop around midday, her bladder full from the water she’d had before they left. She makes her way to a grove of trees not far away, heading off to do her business in private. She makes sure she’s far enough out of the line of sight but still not too far as to get lost before she squats behind a tree, making sure her dress is out of the way before she relieves herself. 

 

She leaned her head back against the tree, listening to the quiet surrounding area. It’s almost too quiet, putting her on edge. A twig snapping behind her has her on edge, peeking out around the tree but she sees no one. 

 

Suddenly she’s yanked backwards and flipped onto the ground, a heavy weight settling over her. She knows already it’s not Tormund, the stench enough to put her off. The man quickly overpowers her, his weight making it hard to breathe. “Tormund’s been too nice to you, kneeler.” The man tugs her skirt upwards, making her struggle harder. “I woulda taken you right in the middle of camp so everyone could see.” 

 

Davina struggles against the man, fear flooding her as the man pushes her dress up. She can hardly think, hitting, clawing, kicking as much as she can but it doesn’t seem to even make him flinch. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, the man’s grubby hands pawing at her legs, trying to separate them. One of his arms is across her chest, his weight pressing her into the ground. It’s making it hard to breathe, Davina managing little more than gasps from the pressure. Maybe if she’s lucky, she’ll pass out before it happens. 

 

Her knee hits something as she struggles, her attention drawn to the knife at the man’s waist. She uses his distraction in trying to get his laces open to reach down, grabbing the knife. She doesn’t think, stabbing upwards as soon as the knife is in her hands, sticking it right through his throat. He gurgles, choking on blood as he looks at her with a shocked expression, blood painting her front as the man bleeds out. 

 

It’s seconds later when he’s pushed off of her, Tormund and three others there. Tormund takes in the situation in front of him, pulling Davina to her feet before taking the knife from her hand. He can feel the anger already boiling, more than happy to beat the man’s skull in if he had been alive. But Davina had killed him, and by the look on her face she was more shocked than he was. She’s covered in his blood and Tormund had a wicked urge to take her right then and there but he knew it wouldn’t do any good for her. 

 

He turns towards Munda, pushing Davina over to her. “Clean her up.” 

 

Davina is led towards a stream, away from the camp. She had just killed a man. He was going to do worse things to her, but she had killed him. Just like that, and now she was covered in his blood. Munda leaves her by the stream for a moment and she kneels down, the water shockingly cold as she tries to wash the blood off her hands but she can’t see from the tears spilling from her eyes, her hands shaking too much to do any good. 

 

Munda comes back, taking over the job, wetting a cloth before cleaning her hands and her face. The water shocks her back into sense, but she can’t stop shaking. 

 

“He your first?” Munda asks as she works to get the blood of her chest. Davina nods, unable to form words. “It gets easier. You did what any Free Woman would do. He had no right trying to take you like that.” She’s quiet for a moment, trying to wash the blood out of her hair. “My father would have done worse to him. He’s very loyal and protective. He’ll take care of what’s his no matter what he has to do. He’s not a bad man. He’s honorable and loyal and he’ll treat you better than any Southern man will. Our ways are different to you, but they’re not wrong. Just different. If you give him a chance, he’ll prove how good he can be as a husband.” Munda helps her stand, stripping her out of her ruined dress before helping her into some furs. They’re too big for Davina, but they’re warm and thick. 

 

Munda leads her back to the makeshift camp, the others already packed and ready to go, the riderless horse being used to carry more bags. Tormund comes over to her, not saying a word as he helps her onto his horse, climbing on behind her. She can feel him hold her just a little tighter now, her own face buried in his neck, inhaling his musky scent. 

 

She can’t help but ponder over Munda’s words, thinking back to just two days ago when she’d never even considered the idea of being happy with Tormund. She’d been so against the idea of someone claiming her as their wife simply by kidnapping her, thinking they had any claim over her. But now she’s surprised at how safe she feels being close to Tormund. What had happened had shocked her, brought her back to reality. She’d always felt so safe, but she wasn’t ignorant to the world growing up. Or, at least she hadn’t thought she was. But now she had almost had it happen to her, and she had killed a man protecting herself. Tormund’s bulk behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist is a reassurance now. She knows he would have done worse to the man who had touched her had he been given the chance. The thought should have scared her, for what would he do to her if she ever made him angry? But instead it’s a comfort to her. Munda had been right in saying he would protect what was his. And as much as she doesn’t want to think of herself as property, in the case of her safety she’s beginning not to mind it too much. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut and suspense for y'all. Finally things are getting moving.

Davina feels a dampness between her legs when she wakes. It takes her a moment to get her head on straight, figuring out what the problem is. Her pants are around her knees, the shirt she’d been given hiked up near her breasts. There’s a hand between her legs, fingers lazily pumping in and out of her. There’s no pain this time, a strange warmth pooling in her stomach instead. 

 

Memories of the day before flicker through her head but she quiets the panic blooming in her chest as she feels the familiar scratch of Tormund’s beard against her neck, his groan as she shifts her hips against him. She feels his nose brush her ear, the warmth of his tongue as it traces the skin behind. 

 

“This is what it should feel like.” He murmurs into her ear as she lets out a quiet sound. 

 

Energy buzzes through her entire body, warming her from head to toe. Her hips are moving with his fingers on their own volition, chasing after something she can’t figure out yet. She had felt glimpses of this feeling the first time he had touched her, but it had been so fast and the pain so harsh it had faded quickly. But now there was no pain, only what she could describe as pleasure coursing through her. Her back arches, pressing her body closer against him, her hand gripping his wrist to anchor her to something. She’s making sounds now, breathy little moans as he works her towards something, an edge she can’t quite see yet. 

 

“You are mine.” Tormund all but growls in her ear. “Only I can touch you like this, only I can make you wet like this.” 

 

“Yes.” Davina gasps, her head falling back against his shoulder. “Oh gods, yes!” 

 

Tormund’s fingers leave her, making Davina groan. She had been so close, teetering on the edge of some great void, her entire body coiled tight like a spring only to be unwound by the absence of Tormund’s fingers. Tormund chuckles lowly in her ear, his hand reaching behind her for a moment before she feels him against her. He doesn’t waste any time, pressing his length inside of her. The feeling makes her tense for a moment, the stretch painful but not like it had been the first time. Tormund’s arm wraps around her middle, holding her against him as he starts to move. 

 

His thrusts are short and sharp, gliding easily from the wetness dripping out of her. The painful stretch quickly fades as she relaxes around him, clearing her mind as she just feels. He’s thick, making her feel impossibly full. She can feel his muscles contracting as he thrusts into her, his body practically enveloping her as he takes her. His breath fans over her neck as he grunts into her ear, her own sounds muffled by the rolled up fur they had been using as a pillow. 

 

“You’re mine. My woman. My wife.” Tormund growls into her ear, thrusting into her sloppily now. “I’ll fill you up with my children. They’ll be beautiful golden-haired giants. A whole army of them.” 

 

The thought has her tightening around him, her hips bearing down and meeting his thrusts. Perhaps it’s the heat of the moment, but the thought of having Tormund’s children sends more warmth shooting through Davina’s body towards her core. Her back arches as she feels herself winding tight again, Tormund’s face buried in her shoulder to muffle his own groans. 

 

“Let go.” He murmurs, his arms gripping her tight. 

 

Davina does as he says, letting herself fall into the void. Her back arches, pleasure shooting through her entire body as she comes undone in Tormund’s arms. She can feel herself fluttering around him, gripping him tightly and urging him to his own release. She has to bite the furs muffling her sounds to keep quiet, sounds she never knew she could make threatening to come out. Tormund’s own teeth sink into her shoulder as he stills, pulsing inside her, sending hot spurts of his seed deep into her womb. 

 

Davina is trembling when she returns from the clouds, but it’s a different kind of trembling than what she had been doing the first time. Tormund is still inside her, his chest heaving against her back. His hand traces up her body, turning her slightly so she can see his face, or what she can make out of it in the darkness. 

 

“I will take care of you.” 

 

She can’t see his face, but she trusts his words. 

 

*********

 

They travel onward for three more days. Tormund takes her both nights they camp, bringing her nothing but pleasure. She’s all but forgotten the fear, the pain she had felt the first time. The hatred and confusion she had felt toward Tormund is fading as well. He had bought her with his skillful fingers and his assuring words. Promises of protection, love, care all worming their way into her heart and she finds herself easing more and more into the reality of her situation. She’s married now, to a Wildling of all people, and she was going north of the Wall to live with him. He had kept it no secret that her life would be different than it had been before, harder than she’d ever experienced. But Tormund would be right by her side through it all. That he continually promised. 

 

It’s midday the third day when they finally see it for the first time. Davina can hardly believe her eyes, and if they had been walking no doubt she would have stopped in awe. They had crested a hill, open plains spreading out before them, spanning several miles before stopping at the base of the Wall. Even from their distance it towers high into the sky, the sheer magnitude of it incomprehensible. Davina had grown up on stories about the Wall, but what she had pictured in her mind was nothing compared to seeing it in real life. 

 

Tormund chuckles behind her, no doubt sensing her amazement. “Never seen it before?” 

 

Davina shakes her head. “I’ve never been this far north. I’ve heard stories, but it’s nothing like I imagined it.” 

 

“Aye, it is a sight to behold. Just wait until we get closer to it.” 

 

“We’re getting closer?” 

 

“Of course. We have to get back to the other side somehow.” 

 

Davina hadn’t thought about that. She had been so focused on other things she hadn’t considered how they would get north of the wall exactly. “We’re...we’re going to climb it?” 

 

“Yes.” Tormund answers simply. “What did you think we would do? Walk right through the crow's nest and use their little door to get through?” 

 

He has a point. They had to get over it somehow, but climbing it? Suddenly the thoughts she’d been having of her life north of the Wall don’t seem so realistic. 

 

They camp at the base of the wall that night. It was even bigger up close, looming overhead tauntingly. Davina gives herself a stiff neck staring up at it, even as the top disappears in the night's darkness. She can’t sleep, the cracking and settling of the ice just a few feet from them keeping her awake. Even tucked up against Tormund’s chest she can’t bring herself to close her eyes for more than a few moments. Tormund had climbed the Wall many times. It’s part of what he did. Wildlings were constantly crossing south to get supplies and goods they needed. They knew the places where the Night’s Watch didn’t patrol and the best times to climb. But none of that reassured her. What worried her was her lack of strength. She didn’t think she could get over ten feet, let alone 700 to the top and then back down the other side. She was a soft girl meant for breeding heirs and embroidering dresses not climbing walls. Even as a child she had been the one to stand on the ground and watch the other children climb trees. She had never been one to get her hands dirty more than she had to. And now she would have no other choice. Leaving now wasn’t an option. So she would have to go up. 

 

They eat a light breakfast the next morning, all of them gearing up to go over the Wall. Davina feels like a helpless child as she watches them, all of them knowing what to do but she doesn’t have a clue. She had a feeling this would become normal for her as she adjusted to a life she knew nothing about. All of her years of training would not prepare her for anything remotely like this. 

 

Tormund comes over to her when he finishes getting himself ready, helping her place the spikes on her boots, making sure she knows how to hold the ice picks and makes sure she remembers how he had told her to climb. She would be right behind him on the line and Munda behind her. If she slipped, she’d be roped in and wouldn’t fall but Tormund had told her not to slip. 

 

Tormund double checks the knot on the rope around her, making sure she’s ready to go. His actions are sweet, but not enough to quell the torrent of fear in her chest. The Wall hadn’t looked so high even yesterday, now standing at the base looking up it seemed to stretch on forever. 

 

Tormund cups her face, bringing her eyes down to his. “Sink the metal deep. Don’t look down. No matter how tired you get, don’t stop.” 

 

Davina nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. Tormund leans down, pressing his lips to hers. It’s the first time he’s kissed her, taking her by surprise. His lips are chapped and rough from the cold but hers aren’t any better. It’s a quick, soft kiss, promising more if they both live through this. 

 

Davina follows Tormund’s lead, slowly making her way up the Wall. She follows Tormund’s steps, focusing on his feet inches above her head to keep herself focused. The first few feet aren’t bad, but Davina feels the fatigue not even 100 feet above the ground. Already her hands are cramping and her arms are aching. She’s thankful for the gloves, otherwise she knows she would have never held onto the ice picks. She relies more on her feet, using her legs to push her upwards. Tormund takes the climb slowly, the wind whipping around them the higher they go. The day had started clear, but quickly that had changed, as the weather does in the North. Clouds had moved in, low sitting clouds that blocked the top of the Wall from their view. Davina had no idea how high they were as they climbed, not wanting to look down and see, afraid she may faint. 

 

It can’t be much higher when Davina really feels it. Tormund had to move their party sideways to avoid a weak spot in the ice. Davina can’t hardly stand being still as Tormund searches for stronger holds, preferring to move to keep herself focused on something other than her aching muscles. Her arms are trembling with each step upwards, her breaths coming in painful gasps at the exertion. The air is frigidly cold, colder than anything she’s ever felt. She feels as if every breath is freezing in her throat, her body slowly becoming one with the Wall. It had started snowing on them, dampening Davina’s hair and furs and quickly freezing her to the bone. She’s sore and stiff and for a moment she thinks about just letting go. How easy it would be to just fall and die a painless death rather than face any more cold and pain. 

 

The wind is whipping at them harshly now, and Davina is afraid if she wasn’t half frozen to the Wall she’d be blown off to the side never to be seen again. Her teeth are chattering, her hair sticking to her face painfully. She’s moving numbly now, all feeling gone from her limbs. Whether it’s the cold or the exertion she’s not sure, but she feels as if she’s been on the Wall a lifetime. Perhaps it had been a lifetime. She wanted nothing more than to be in front of a fire, warm and secure on the ground. She knows she’ll never do this again unless she has no other choice. Even then she’d rather face death than climb the Wall again. 

 

The storm that battered them for most their climb burns off before the day is over. The wind doesn’t stop battering them, but suddenly the sun is out, practically blinding Davina as it shines against the ice. She realizes they’ve gone farther than she thought, and she’s being blinded by the top of the Wall. She nearly cries in relief, pushing herself up the last few feet. Tormund goes over the top first, reaching back down after a moment to pull her the rest of the way up. 

 

Davina collapses against his chest. Somehow, despite everything they’d just gone through, Tormund is still warm. She’s half frozen, so cramped she can’t even let go of the ice picks. Tormund holds her close, the rest of their party making their way to the top of the Wall. She had made it. 

 

Tormund lets her go after a moment, making sure she’s alright before seeing to the rest of their party. Davina looks out over the South side of the Wall. Her brothers were wrong. You can’t see Dorne from the top of the Wall but you could see a great expanse of the North. Davina knows this will be the last time she ever sees the Seven Kingdoms. 

 

Tormund comes back over to her, turning her around, moving her to the other edge of the Wall. “This is your home now.” 

 

She looks out over the lands north of the Wall, places only talked about in scary stories and tales meant to scare children. There was a haunting look to it in the fading light of the day, but Davina finds it doesn’t look much different to the rest of Westeros, at least the North. Perhaps she’d be able to settle in better than she had thought. 

 

The Wildling party begins to move again, tying themselves back up. Davina feels the strength leaving her. They were only halfway done. They still had to go down the other side. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Davina’s hands are blistered and burning, her muscles so stiff every movement is excruciating. They had to get to the trees. Once they were under the cover of the trees, they could rest. The snow that had fallen during their climb only made it harder, Davina’s feet unable to lift above the meager inches that dusted the ground. Tormund had told her how cruel the winters were North of the Wall. The last winter that had come had been six years ago. Davina had been twelve and had prided herself in her tolerance of the cold. She had spent most of it in a warm castle, however, not North of the Wall out in the open where winter never seemed to leave. You would have never guessed that it was summer in Westeros, looking North of the Wall. This was her life now, though. This was her home. 

 

They finally make it to the trees, a fire already built by the time Davina gets there. She sinks down into the snow, unsure if she’ll be able to get back up. The Wildlings move around her, setting up camp and beginning on dinner. They hadn’t eaten since that morning, though Davina hadn’t noticed. She peels off her gloves, sticking her hands in the snow to try to calm the burning. She would be glad to never have to experience it again. 

 

The cold bites at her skin but it soothes the burn of her blisters, Davina tempted to just lay back and bury her whole body in the snow. She had never ached like this before, not even after her fight with Tormund and her uncomfortable ride on the horse. Nothing she had experienced could compare to the pain she’s in now, and she could think of very few things that would ever compare. 

 

Tormund joins her after a while, sitting down next to her. “How do you feel?” 

 

“Like my body might shatter if I move too much.” 

 

Tormund chuckles, taking one of her hands out of the snow, inspecting it. “You’re delicate. But slowly the delicate lady will be chipped away and we’ll make a proper northerner out of you.” 

 

Tormund is right. She can’t stay the delicate lady her mother had shaped her into up here. She would have to harden herself, channel the strength she’d found when she killed the man who attacked her. The strength she’d felt when she attacked Tormund in the village. She’d have to keep that strength until it became second nature to her. She’d never make it if she stayed the way she’d learned to be all her life. 

 

*****  
  


Tormund doesn’t touch her again for the next week. They continuously make their way north, the geography of the lands beyond the Wall unknown to Davina. The only map she’d been concerned with growing up had stopped at the Wall. It was a map covering the Seven Kingdoms and their houses, sigils and words. She had spent months pouring over it, learning every house, every sigil, every set of words knowing one day she’d be a lady of some castle, sharing the words of her husband, and her own house. But now she had no house, no sigil, no words. She was no lady now, either. The Free Folk frowned upon the ideas of lords and ladies and, so it appeared to her, manners as well. Though they had their own version of a hierarchy. They had their leaders that they recognized and respected, though not quite the level of respect her own people had for their Lords. Or, at least it seemed that way to her. She still had a lot to learn and she would be learning for a long time. 

 

It takes them a week to arrive at Ruddy Hall. It’s not at all what she had expected, though she’s not quite sure what it was she expected. All the things she thought she knew about Wildlings had been wrong. Of course some of them had been true as well. The village isn’t much different from those she had passed on her journey north. Not unlike the one she had spent the night in so long ago. 

 

One large building sits in the center of a clearing, other small homes forming a circle around it. There are people moving around, going about their daily lives as they make their way into the small village. Tormund takes her hand, leading her towards the largest building. Many of the people stop and stare at her, watching as Tormund leads her inside. 

 

It’s warm in the building, a fire burning in the center of the room. Tormund leads her past rows of tables towards a door in the back. There’s a staircase that reminds Davina just how much her body is aching before they come to a stop on the landing. Tormund leads her to the door at the far end of the hall, opening it and leading her inside. 

 

She knows instantly that this is his bedroom, a fire already burning in the hearth, a welcome warmth to the bitter cold outside. There’s a huge bed in the center of the room, facing the hearth, many layers of furs covering the bed. There’s a washbasin against one wall, a trunk on the other wall. A single window looks out into the trees, the sunlight quickly disappearing. 

 

Tormund comes up behind her, his breath warm against her neck. “This is your home now, my little wife.” He gently turns her to face him, tangling a hand in her hair, holding her in place. His eyes shine in the firelight as he stares down at her, a determined look steeling them. “I will protect you here. Provide for you. I will bring you more pleasure than you ever thought you could feel in our bed. Our children will be born here, raised here. You will be a true Northerner now.” 

 

Davina feels something swell in her chest at his words, the doubts and remaining resentment melting away under his fiery gaze. All she can do is nod, unable to find the words to reply to his promise. Just a few weeks ago, her life had been so different. Now she was staring a life she’d never thought she’d have in the face. Tormund had been nothing but kind to her, proven he could care for her many times over. He’d made promises no man ever had before, speaking with nothing but conviction and truth. She’s not sure if she can say that she loves him, but she does find herself caring for him more and more every day.

 

“I will bring up water for a bath. Make yourself at home.” 

 

Tormund leaves her and Davina takes a moment to sit down on the bed. She nearly cries, barely remembering what it’s like to be on a real bed. Davina pulls off the top layer of her clothing, laying the furs out on top of the bed. It’s warm in the room, the warmest she’s been since that night in the inn. 

 

It doesn’t take Tormund long to return with buckets of heated water, filling up the basin in the corner. Davina watches him, a few trips needed to fill the basin. Davina works her fingers through her hair in the meantime, working the tangles out. She doesn’t remember the last time she had a bath. She had managed to ignore the dirty feeling, but staring at the steaming water across the room she was suddenly aware of how dirty she really was. 

 

Tormund finishes filling the tub, closing the door to give them privacy. He turns to Davina, her hands stilling in her hair. She doesn’t know what she had expected, but her eyes widen as Tormund begins to undress himself. She had never seen him naked before despite their time together. She can’t hold his gaze, her eyes dropping to the floor as his clothes come off, and she can hear the slosh of the water as he climbs in. 

 

“Aren’t you going to join me, little wife?” 

 

Davina shyly glances up, finding him sitting in the tub. “Y-You want us...together?” 

 

Tormund’s laugh thunders through the room. “You should get used to being bare in front of me. We are going to spend much time naked together.” 

 

Davina’s heart is pounding in her chest. Not only had she never seen him naked before, but he had never seen her naked. She feels anxious at the thought of being bare before him, her hands shaking as they tug weakly at the ties of her clothes. She can feel his eyes on her, watching her as she slowly removes her clothes. She turns her back as she pulls off the last layers, shaking despite the warmth of the room. 

 

She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns towards the bath, her eyes on the floor as she makes her way over, hoping for the cover of the water. Tormund’s hands are on her as soon as she’s within his arm’s reach, pulling her into the tub. The water is hot, heating her skin even more. Her back hits Tormund’s chest, his arms around her, holding her in place. 

 

Despite the situation, the water feels good to Davina. Besides being cleaned off after she killed the man on the road, she hadn’t had a bath at all. She can practically see the dirt coming off of her just sitting there. Tormund moves after a moment, grabbing a cloth and gently running it over her skin. His touch is light and gentle, scrubbing her skin clean. Davina loosens up under his hands, letting him move her to better reach her skin. She tried to ignore his touch as it passes over her breasts and between her legs. 

 

Tormund cleans himself after he finishes with her, staying with her in the tub until the water gets cold. He lets her climb out first, both of them dripping water onto the floor. Tormund steps up to her once he’s out of the water, staring down at her. She shivers under his gaze and the sheer bulk of him. He presses closer to her, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. 

 

Her hands find his shoulders, his own gliding down her sides before pulling her tight against him. His skin is warm against hers, the hair on his chest rough against her skin. His lips drop from her own, sliding down her jaw and neck. He kneels down as he works his way down her body, her hand reaching out to the wall for support. 

 

She gasps as his mouth descends lower, Tormund’s hand lifting her leg over his shoulder. She tangles a hand in his hair as he mouths at her, his tongue tasting her. She moans his name, not caring anymore who hears as he brings her close to the edge. 


End file.
